Rose am I,
sought by lovers, friends, and man.
Snipped from the bush to send elsewhere.
Thorns clipped, leaves trimmed,
dozens of me trimmed to perfection are a sought out gift. Wrap me in tissue, place a bow on me.
Place me in a box and send me express mail.
Somewhere on my stem did you leave a single thorn;
A reminder to your lover or friend, beauty can prick the heart? A drop of blood just like the red rose, greater still.